I’m not on the recommended pace to write a poem each day this month to participate in National Poetry Month, but this one happened in about 30 seconds. There will never be another muse like my Dad. He was a remarkable, wonderful, loving, accepting, listening person.
a tiny poem
droplets of ideas
scattered
in a dusty basket
of tear-shaped
memories
all soft like
your old clothes
only i can’t
remember
the last thing
you said
to
me
© 2019 Glover Gardens
January 2024: Shared to Open Link Night at the dVerse Poets Pub.
We are in transit, but I just showed this to NJ. It brought a tear to her eye. A year or two after their dad passed, she and her sister wrote a song. Well, she wrote the lyrics out of her head while she was tinkering on the piano. One line haunts us still. “I told you I loved you. I never said thank you.” I’ll find it for you, if you want. the album is called, “Traces of You.” You know what it’s about. 🙂
I know that piece; I listened to it after my Dad died. It’s so lovely, so authentic. Both of your lyrical writing styles have influenced mine and helped me be more simple and authentic. I feel honored that my little outpouring made a connection.
It did. Their dad would have been 99 two days ago. She is a little raw… but we are in the middle of getting seriously jet lagged. Thank for that, humbling. We do feed off of each other…
Sending good juju for a long road trip; and wow, how those memories can zing you, any time, any place.
Touching
Thank you very much.
Thank you so much. Dad was very special and it helps to share him.
This is touching and the point of poetry. To bring forth a world from a teardrop, inviting the reader to find touchstones to their own memories of love and loss. Beautifully done.
Anna, I love the thought of others finding touchstones. That is definitely a benefit of poetry.
Kim, you capture the fragility of memories, weaving together the theme of loss and the echoes of a final conversation with your dad. Very moving.
~David
Thank you very much, David. Memories are fragile, indeed.
Memories are like that, and a teardrop is a powerful metaphor (after all you can see the world reflected inside), as a tear is lost over time just like memories.
Bjorn, even your comments read like poetry!
Great and touching.
Recently wrote one for my dads birthday, these are great moments to see what’s in one’s heart. Thank you for sharing this with us.
Jan, did you publish the poem? I’d love to read it and I’m sure others would, too. Please feel free to post a link here.
The memories begin to fade, but there is still the essence of our lost loved ones that stays with us, and poetry is such a human way to commemorate and remember.
It is, and it is also a bridge for connecting with others (poetry), which helps to keep the lost ones close.
That’s so poignant. There’s so much we have forgotten, because it didn’t seem important at the time. A lifetime to regret. I remember the last thing my dad said to me,a phone call, I was holding the new baby who he hadn’t seen, and she was shouting (she was a noisy baby) and he said, ‘She’s going to be a talker. She’s pretty voluble already.’ He had a heart attack shortly afterwards and never got to see his granddaughter.
Oh Jane, what a moving story. I’m so sorry.
I imagine you’ve told her all about your Dad and created mind-pictures for her.
Thank you for sharing this; it means a lot to me.
It is amazing how fast memories can filter out of our brain. Sort of like asking someone their name! A wonderful memory tribute to your dad.
Thank you so much. And yes, memory is so fluid, the quicksilver of the mind.
You are welcome!